


His Edited Heart

by WolffyLuna



Series: "His Edited Heart" series [2]
Category: Horus Heresy - Various Authors, Warhammer 40.000, Warhammer 40k (Novels) - Various Authors
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Angst, Horus is creepy, M/M, Song fic, Tarik is a good friend, creepiness, off screen rape, off-screen sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-04
Updated: 2013-12-04
Packaged: 2018-01-03 10:49:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1069571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolffyLuna/pseuds/WolffyLuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How can one say no to a Primarch?</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Edited Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by this song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H613IQiDEgU

Horus lay on top of him, pressed chest to chest, heat filling everywhere. It burned. Not just physically, but mentally as well. Hastur doubted anyone could cope with a primarch so close to them, filling every sense. The smell _(_ sweaty and acrid and dominant and other adjectives you didn’t describe scent as), the sound ( _deep and sonorous and all-consuming_ ), the touch ( _l_ _ike an inferno next to him, burning apart every fibre of his being, then destroying the ash_ ), and the sight _(_ _perfect, everything aligned just so, built in a way that would make master artists weep_ ) No one could cope with a being of such magnificence pressed up against them. No one could cope with such a being inside them. 

Horus laid lazy kiss of Hastur’s lips. “Thank you.” The pressure was just right, just like everything Horus did. “You’re good, you know.”

  _I just wish I wasn’t. I wish at least half the times we were ‘just going to talk’ contained only talking. I wish I didn’t keep falling into bed with you. Sons shouldn’t do this to fathers. Fathers shouldn’t do this to sons._

Then Horus nuzzled his neck and Hastur’s train of thought disappeared. You couldn’t stay mad at Horus when he was touching you in the places that made your body sing. You couldn’t say no when you looked into his eyes and saw the desire there. You couldn’t do anything but get swept away.

Part of him just wanted to escape. Wanted him to flee forever, for him to shout out that this wasn’t right. But then Horus came near and that little voice got subsided in the rush of others who just wanted to serve. Who wanted to please their primarch and father, because how could you be happy if your primarch wasn’t?

***

The Mournival had a meeting. Not a formal one, a friendly meeting between brothers. Wine flowed relatively freely; Tarik was still annoyed that he couldn’t drink thanks to an injured shoulder and painkillers. 

Tarik tipped back his seventh lemon lime and bitters, playing at being drunk. “So, Hastur.” He pointed “Horus has been having a lot of private meetings with you. Are you fucking him? Because if he, you’re going to tell us if he’s good.”

Aximand whooped and nearly knocked over his wine glass. Abaddon righted it and rolled his eyes.

 _Do I tell him? Do I keep it secret?_ Hastur stiffened. “No, I’m not ‘fucking’ our father.” He tried to put as much laughter into his tone and face, but it rang false.

Tarik obviously caught Hastur’s expression. He dropped the subject, no further jokes made. Hastur hoped he hadn’t given it away.

The evening wound down, and Abaddon dragged a very drunk Aximand back to his quarters.

“Little Horus is going to be over the moon when he wakes up.”

“He’s an Astartes. He can shrug off a hang-over.”

There was a pause. “I’ll be going now,” Hastur said. He stood up, but Tarik caught his shoulder with his good hand.

“That’s actually happening, isn’t it?”

Sejanus turned around. “What’s actually happening?”

“You, Lupercal, intimate relationships, that sort of thing.”

Hastur sighed. No point being coy about it. “Yes. The private meetings do involve more than talking.”

Tarik’s expression turned serious for once. “Look, if you want advice, or just want a listening ear, I’m here. I’ll be there if you need me, ‘kay?” 

Hastur nodded.

Tarik grinned and punched Hastur on the arm. “Just spare me the gory details.”

“I intend to. But thanks for the offer.” He walked away for real this time.

 Tarik waved a hand and shouted at him. “No worries!”

***

 Hastur talked to Horus on the phone. It was easier that way, only hearing his voice and nothing else. Not that his voice wasn’t entrancing and commanding. Not that he could never disobey words spoken by him. “How secret was this meant to be?”

 There was something that sounded almost like a growl from the other end of the line. “Who did you tell?”

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He couldn’t work out why. Horus barely said anything. He shouldn’t be crying. The weight of the primarch’s disappointment was too heavy to bear. How much disappointment could there even be in just four words? “I didn’t tell anyone, I swear! Torgaddon worked it out.” 

Horus growled again. “Don’t tell anyone else.” His voice softened. “They wouldn’t understand. They would think I was taking advantage, think I was hurting you. I’m not, am I?” 

“No, of course not.” He put down the phone, and resisted the temptation to slide down the wall and curl up in the fetal position. 

*** 

Tarik sprung on him after training. Hastur nearly jumped out of skin. “You seem kind of upset and off-kilter. Heck, I saw you nearly in tears talking on the phone.” He laid a hand on Hastur’s shoulder, and Hastur shrugged it off. “Is something wrong? Has this got to do with Horus thing?”

Hastur didn’t speak. 

“You can talk to me about anything, you know that, right? I’ll keep it in confidence.”

“Even from the Primarch?”

Tarik paused, like he was doing mental calculations. Finally, he nodded. “Even from Lupercal.”

“Follow me.” Hastur turned around and marched off to his quarters, Tarik following him.. Hastur checked every corner, making sure Horus wasn’t following him (Which was silly. Horus would never stalk him. There was no reason to, was there?), and Tarik tried to work out what the appropriate amount of physical contact for this was (he settled for fingertips resting lightly on Hastur’s shoulder.) 

The door opened automatically for Sejanus and they stepped in. Hastur sat down on the bed, sinking into the mattress and gripping the sheets to give his hands something to do.

Tarik flopped down next to him, shoving a pillow off. “So what’s the problem?” 

Hastur took a deep breath, and tried to gather his thoughts into something resembling sense. Just talking about this had the same terrifying, dream-like quality doing it had. “Whenever I’m near him, I can’t stop. I go to speak to him, and before I even have time to think, before I can get a word out, I find myself--” he paused. Spare him the gory details. Right. “--in his bed. There’s nothing I can do to to slow down.” 

“Can’t you tell him to? Surely he’d listen if you tell him you want to do slower.”

“Have you tried talking to Lupercal?” 

“I’m part of the Mournival, of course I have--” 

“While you can feel his breath on your neck?”

“No.” He paused, looking at his feet. Hastur drew up his knees, hoping he didn’t get the sheets dirty. “I probably couldn’t. Have you tried? I mean, before he gets neck breathingly close?” 

He shook his head. “Can’t. Could you try saying no to a primarch?” 

“I’m sure he could take it--” 

Hastur found himself on his feet before he knew what he was doing. “But what if he doesn’t? What if I manage to squeeze the words out, but he takes it as an insult? What if he rejects me? I couldn’t cope; I’d fall apart.” He turned to face Tarik. “Could you try to disappoint him?” 

Tarik played with his hands. “I can’t think of anything else other than talking to him. I’m sure he’s understand. He’s reasonable.”

“I’ll try my best.” 

*** 

Hastur knocked on Horus’ door, and it opened. 

“Sir, I think we need to tal--” Horus smothered the words with a devouring kiss, and all of Hastur’s thoughts flew away from him.


End file.
